


Flowers Aren't Food

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Come Swallowing, Dancing, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Spoilers for Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Diego and Klaus go to a club, and talk about the important things in life, like what counts as food.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 5
Kudos: 108
Collections: RelationShipping 2020





	Flowers Aren't Food

**Author's Note:**

  * For [listlessness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/listlessness/gifts).



"Can I ask you a weird question?" Klaus, sitting with his feet propped up on the kitchen chair next to him, glanced over at Diego.

"As if you ever ask me any other kind," Diego said, although there wasn't much venom in his voice as he said it. 

"Excuse you, I ask plenty of normal questions," said Klaus. 

"Half the time it feels like there's some kind of hidden agenda, even when you say something normal." Diego was chopping tomatoes, and he was unconsciously falling into the rhythm of the thud of his knife. "Like if you ask me where the towels are, you're going to be going off to tie dye them all."

"I did that _once_ ," Klaus complained, "and that was before I was sober!"

Diego actually put the knife down to turn around and look at Klaus, one eyebrow up. "Before? Bro, you're not exactly avoiding the stuff now."

"I'm not straight edge sober the way I was," Klaus corrected. "And anyway, even if I was back to the bad ol' days of..." He waved a hand, not wanting to go into detail. "There was _still_ a point in time where I was sober." 

"So what was your weird question?" Diego asked, to head Klaus off at the pass before his brother started rambling. He put the tomatoes into the bowl next to him, then reached for the onion. 

"Question?" Diego didn't need to see Klaus' face to know he was frowning.

"You started this whole conversation asking if you could ask a question," said Diego. "Which, I might add, is a question in and of itself."

"Someone's up his own tautological butt," said Klaus, and he sounded disgruntled. 

Diego put down the knife, turning around to look at Klaus. "What?" 

Klaus waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "I've been bored," he said. "Reading up on philosophy."

"Oh god," Diego said, turning his back again and beginning to chop. The scent of the onion hit him in the face like a punch, and his eyes immediately watered. "Don't tell me all that guru business got to your head"

Klaus audibly shuddered, and Diego was grinning a bit in spite of himself. "Never again," Klaus said, his tone firm. "God, that was horrible."

"It was your own damn fault and you know it," Diego said. 

"But!" Klaus stood up, and then he was walking up to Diego, leaning his elbows on the counter, his chin in his hands, "I do miss it sometimes." He snapped his fingers, his face lighting up. " _That_ was what I was gonna ask you."

"What were you gonna ask me?" Diego sniffed, and held back a sneeze. Oh god, those onions were potent. 

"Do you miss the sixties?" 

Diego gave Klaus a skeptical look. "Do I miss being locked up, getting dosed up with who knows what drugs -"

"They gave you drugs?" Klaus interrupted. "I should've gotten checked into a funny farm instead of starting a cult."

"Getting dosed up with who knows what drugs," Diego continued, a little louder, "and then the craziness of all of us trying to stop the Kennedy assassination?"

"Excuse you, we weren't trying to stop the Kennedy assassination," said Klaus. "We were trying to stop the apocalypse."

"Whatever," said Diego. 

"But do you miss it?" Klaus prompted. 

Diego rolled his eyes. "Why would I miss that?" 

"The sixties had their perks," Klaus protested. He reached up, tucking a piece of hair behind Diego's ear, and Diego tried not to blush. They'd all gotten more... touch-y, since they'd gotten back. After all the saving the world nonsense - _again_ \- and then navigating around in an alternate dimension, well... 

"I didn't get to experience any of them," Diego said firmly. 

"Why'd you keep your hair long like that?" Klaus asked. 

"You said it made me look like Antonio Banderas," said Diego. He was very much not blushing. He wasn't flustered at all. Not one _bit_. 

"It does! In a sort of... scruffy kinda way. Very chic." Klaus reached into the bowl of tomatoes and took a nibble of one.

Diego slapped his hand away, making a face. "Have you washed?" 

"I did, don't worry," Klaus said, unfazed. 

"Why are you being so nice to me, anyway?" Diego asked. 

"I can't just be nice to my brother?" Klaus wrinkled his nose. "You must have a low opinion of me."

"I'm not saying that you're not ever nice," said Diego. "Just that there's usually some external motivation." He scraped the onions into the bowl with the tomatoes, and reached for a clove of garlic. 

"All that time in the cult made me think of things," said Klaus, and there was a surprising note of melancholy in his voice. "Between the cult, what happened to Elliot, Dave..." He trailed off.

Diego had forgotten about what had happened with Dave. For all that Klaus was a dramatic pain in the ass, he did have a habit of playing certain cards close to the chest. 

"And now you're feeling more good Samaritan?" Was that the right word? 

"Isn't that your job?" Klaus took another tomato, evading Diego's slapping hand. 

"I'm a hero," Diego corrected him. "Big difference."

Klaus snorted. "And what's that?"

"One of 'em is just happenin' by and happens to be in the right place at the right time," said Diego. "The other one is actively searching out trouble to fix it." 

"I think you're just searching out trouble to search out trouble," said Klaus. "The way I used to seek out a fix."

"You are _not_ comparing me being a hero to your drug habit," Diego said sharply. 

"I'm not, I'm not," Klaus said quickly. "More like Five and his apocalypse thing."

"Five has mostly gotten over the apocalypse thing," said Diego. _Thank fuck. I don't know how many more I can take._

"Mostly," Klaus agreed. "But d'you know what I miss about the sixties?"

"All the drugs and free love?" Diego crushed two cloves of garlic under the blade of his knife, paused, and crushed another three. "I'm gonna assume. Since I was locked up and missed all that shit."

"It wasn't all it was cracked up to be," Klaus said. "I was with the cult, remember?"

"So sex and drugs," Diego said, as he began to mince the garlic. 

"I was sober for the majority of my time in the past, I'll have you know," said Klaus, and he hopped up on to the counter, his bare feet swinging.

"Why are you putting your dirty ass on the place we prepare food?" Diego prodded Klaus in the thigh. 

"Okay, first of all, I clean my ass," said Klaus. He put his hands behind his head, stretching out, and Diego's eyes followed the long line of his torso. "Second, I am wearing pants, so even if I didn't, it wouldn't be an issue."

"So why are your dirty _pants_ on the place we prepare food?" Diego said, with a pointed look. 

"I wash my pants," Klaus said. "But. Do you know what I miss about the sixties?"

"You're going to tell me, because you've already brought it up three times," Diego said, as he kept mincing the garlic. 

"Because we keep getting sidetracked," Klaus said, unbothered. "So. What I miss about the sixties is the _music_."

Diego paused. "What d'you mean, you miss the music? It's still around."

"I mean, yeah, it's all recorded and shit," said Klaus, "but it doesn't have that same..." He made a flourishing hand gesture, involving his feet in it. "Life."

"Life," Diego said, his tone skeptical. As far as he was concerned, music was music was music. He liked dancing (he was good at dancing the way he was good at anything else he put his mind to), but... well, what did it matter what era you were in when you listened to it?

"Come out with me," Klaus said, and there was a pout in his voice. "I want to go dancing."

"So go dancing," Diego said. The minced garlic was turning into paste, and his hands were going to _fug_ of the stuff. 

"I want to go dancing _with_ someone," Klaus said. 

"Take Luther. Big guy needs some practice." 

"I love every inch of Luther's hulking frame," said Klaus, his hand over his heart like he was orating some great speech, "but he would cramp my style."

"And you think I wouldn't?" Diego raised an eyebrow. "You've complained about my style before."

"You've moved past your need to wear nothing but black and leather, finally," said Klaus, and he flashed Diego a wicked grin. "Usually I need to go to a special club for that kind of outfit."

Diego rolled his eyes, refusing to be scandalized. 

"I _know_ you're a good dancer," Klaus said, prodding Diego in the sternum. 

"Maybe don't poke someone who's holding a knife," Diego said, raising an eyebrow.

"You're always holding a knife," said Klaus. 

"Maybe that's a sign that you shouldn't poke me," Diego said. "Subtle one, so you might miss it."

"Where's the fun in that?" Klaus asked, and he waggled his eyebrows. "You could do with a good poking. It'd probably do wonders for your blood pressure."

_I'm not rising to the bait_ , Diego thought, his jaw clenching. _Look at me, not even blushing._ "I've got excellent blood pressure," he told Klaus, and he kept his tone bland. "Maybe you'd have good blood pressure if you stopped eating like shit."

"I eat better than I used to, I'll have you know," Klaus said. "Especially since you started on this home cooking journey you've been on lately. What's up with that, anyway?" 

"I like to cook," Diego said, which wasn't a lie, because it was true! It wasn't the _whole_ truth, necessarily, but there was enough truth in it to not make it a lie. 

"You also like to dance," said Klaus. "And there's no use denying it, either," he added, wagging his finger. "I've seen you cuttin' a rug in the main room when you think nobody else is looking."

"Who actually says "cutting a rug," anyway?" Diego said, as he scraped his garlic into the bowl. 

"I do," said Klaus. "Excellent description. So come cut rugs with me."

Diego wiped his hands on the dishrag, and he crossed his arms across his chest. "Why?"

"Because I miss doing fun things, and I like hanging out with you since you got the stick out of your ass," said Klaus. "So I figured I'll kill two birds with one stone." 

"Gee, thanks," Diego said flatly. "Really know how to make a guy feel welcome." 

"Diego, my most favoritest brother apart from all my other brothers, will you _please_ come out dancing with me," Klaus said, and he clasped his hands together and pressed them to his chest. 

"Fine, fine, I'll come dancing with you," Diego grumbled. "If it'll get you to stop buggin' me." 

Klaus clapped Diego on the shoulder, and he looked genuinely thrilled. "That's what I like to hear," he told Diego, and then he was sliding off of the counter, making his way out of the kitchen. "Meet me out front at eight."

Diego rolled his eyes, but he was smiling a bit in spite of himself as he grabbed a bell pepper, slicing the top off of it and beginning to scoop out its insides.

* * *

Diego stood in the front hall, his hands shoved into his pockets. He hadn't dressed up nicely like this in ages - not since Dallas. Admittedly, this was a different sort of nice - a button up silk shirt and a nice pair of jeans were a far cry from the suit that he'd worn at the Mexican consulate, but... still.

He hated to admit it, but it was kind of nice to get out of all the leather, now and again. 

"Just lookit you," said Klaus, sauntering down the staircase. He was wearing a flowing white shirt, with tight jeans and funny looking white boots. "You ready to paint the town red?"

"You've been watching too many of those old movies with Mom and Luther," said Diego, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking on the balls of his feet.

"You're just sad that you can't pull off the Humphrey Bogart brooding in the rain look," said Klaus. "Although this look you can pull off, I must say." His eyes raked up and down Diego's form, and then he met Diego's eyes and grinned. "Pullin' out _all_ the stops, huh?"

"What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?" Diego straightened his shirt, and tried to not to bristle. It was Klaus being Klaus.

"Absolutely nothing," Klaus assured him. "You look great."

"Thank you," Diego said, because if Klaus was gonna try to be sincere, he could at least return the favor, right?

There was an awkward silence, then; "shall we?"

"Yeah," said Diego, "let's do this." He wasn't sure what he was so nervous about. It was just dancing. He'd always been good at dancing.

* * *

The club they went to was in a basement. The bouncer seemed to recognize Klaus, and he grinned. Diego was introduced by name, but not as "my brother," which was... interesting. 

"You come here often?" Diego asked, as they shuffled through the mass of bodies. It was hot enough that sweat was already beginning to drip down his back, pool in his hair. 

"Often enough, yeah," said Klaus, weaving through the crowd. He grabbed Diego by the hand, leading him towards one corner, and Diego let him. 

There was a pretty even mix of genders, and the whole place smelled like sweat and cologne and perfume, like being underground and surrounded by people. Diego's head was spinning, just a bit, and he clung a little tighter to Klaus's fingers. 

"I'm gonna get us drinks," said Klaus. "Cash, please."

"I'm not putting up with your drunk ass," said Diego, "and I don't drink, remember?"

"You don't, and I'm not gonna," said Klaus, "but it's easy to get dehydrated in this kinda situation. Wouldn't want you to swoon." He opened his hand entreatingly.

Diego rolled his eyes, and he dropped a few dollars into Klaus's palm. "No booze," he told Klaus firmly. "And I don't swoon," he added as an afterthought. 

Diego could see Klaus's shoulders shaking, and he didn't need to see his bother's face to know he was smirking. "Idiot," Diego mumbled to himself, but he was grinning a bit in spite of himself.

It was nice to lean back and people watch. He'd missed all of this, when he was stuck in the asylum. Just the ability to be unobserved, to be left alone to his own thoughts. He saw couples - and triads, and at least one group of four - dancing to the music, which was mostly remixes of sixties hits, with bass and electronica mixed in. Nobody was really dressed like anyone had dressed in the sixties, but then again, neither was Diego. It was hard to really capture what it felt like to be in a different time period. 

_I wonder if that's why everyone at the commission dresses like that_ , Diego thought idly, as he caught sight of Klaus making his way back, holding two pint glasses very carefully. _They always look vaguely out of place, but not so out of place as to be noticeable._

"I got you an elderflower lemonade," Klaus said, his tone triumphant. 

"Flowers aren't food," Diego said, wrinkling his nose but taking the cup anyway.

"This isn't food, it's a drink, so your argument is invalid," Klaus said smugly.

"What did you get?" Diego squinted at Klaus's own drink.

"Pomegranate iced tea," said Klaus. 

"See, pomegranates are fruit. Fruit is food." Diego took a sip of his lemonade, and found it sharp, with a sweet undertone. 

"Was that so bad?" Klaus asked. 

"It's pretty good," Diego allowed. "It's more food than a Twinkie."

"You and Five with your vendetta against Twinkies," Klaus grumbled, but he was grinning. 

"They're not real food," Diego said. 

"But delicious," Klaus pointed out. "If it wasn't food, would it be delicious?"

"I heard someone once say that arsenic is apparently tasty," said Diego. "Would you eat arsenic?" 

"It's supposed to taste like bitter almonds," said Klaus. "In what world would bitter almonds be tasty." He took a swig of his tea, and Diego watched the line of his throat as he swallowed. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and he made a face. "Then again, you're a freak who likes marzipan." 

"Yeah," said Diego. "Because marzipan is _delicious_." He took a swig of his lemonade, and he let the ambiance of the club wash over him in a wave. When was the last time he'd been in a place like this?

Fucked if he could remember. 

"In the old days marzipan used to be used for like decorations and shit," said Klaus. "It's not for actually eating."

"You just can't taste shit, after all those years smoking," Diego corrected him. 

"Bullshit," said Klaus. "I hated them when I was a kid, and I hadn't touched a cigarette in my life at that point."

"Didn't you start smoking when you were, like, twelve?" Diego asked. "Because Mom was giving us marzipan before that."

"Whatever," said Klaus, making a dismissive hand gesture. "You should come dance with me." He slugged the rest of his iced tea, placing the glass on the bar, and he grabbed at Diego's arm. 

"I need to finish my drink," Diego said, indicating his nearly full glass of lemonade. 

Klaus grabbed the glass (spilling some on his shirt), and he chugged the lemonade like it was beer and he was a frat boy. 

"Hey!" Diego protested. "I wasn't done with that!"

"You were just complaining about how flowers aren't food," Klaus said, after he belched hugely. 

"Charming," Diego said, wrinkling his nose.

"I'll buy you another drink," Klaus said, putting the glass down again. "I'll even get you _boring_ , regular lemonade." He grabbed Diego by the wrist, dragging him out onto the dance floor.

Diego let himself be dragged, until the two of them were pressed tightly in the mass of bodies, chest to chest. They were the same height, although Diego forgot that sometimes. There had been a point, when they'd all been hitting puberty, that Klaus had towered over all of them - it had been maybe a month, before Luther caught up - and then everyone (except Vanya) had more or less caught up. 

Dancing was easy, at least. He'd always been good at physical things, and he'd always been one to throw himself a hundred and fifty percent into anything that he wanted to be good at. And okay, so maybe the way he was dancing with Klaus wasn't _exactly_ the way that you'd normally dance with your brother, but... well. 

Nobody had to know that they were brothers.

Klaus was a little bit beautiful, in the dim, multicolored lights of the club. His brother always managed to look faintly attractive while _also_ looking faintly like a greasy skeleton. It really was a skill. And there was a joy to being alive in that moment, in having a body with a beating heart and expanding lungs, pressed against Klaus', pressed against all the other people in the club. 

The song changed, to something slow and soulful. Diego slowed down, expecting Klaus to pull away, but instead fingers were hooked in his belt loops, and the two of them were pressed together again, swaying slowly to the music. 

"I gotta say," Klaus said, his voice right in Diego's ear, "there are some advantages to the present day that I missed."

"Like what?" Diego let his arms drape over Klaus's shoulders, holding the other man closer. He was getting the beginnings of an erection, and his heart was beating fast enough that Klaus could probably feel it. 

"This kinda thng was genuinely frowned upon," Klaus said, indicating the two of them with a jerk of his head. 

"What, dancing?" Diego's thoughts were coming slow and hazy. It was like everything was being filmed at a lower speed, and it was all a bit hard to follow. 

"With guys," Klaus clarified. "Guys dancing with guys. And, y'know, the whole incest thing." 

Well. He'd just said it out in the open, hadn't he? 

"In fairness," said Diego, "it's not like we're identical twins or something like that."

"Imagine if we'd all been twins," Klaus said, his tone dreamy. The slow song was still going. "The world wouldn't be able to take so much beauty, if you all looked like me." 

Diego didn't have an answer to that, since there were only so many ways one could say "that's stupid" and Diego wasn't feeling creative just then. Instead, he pressed his forehead against Klaus' shoulder, and swayed to the music.

"I think the term would be septuplets," murmured Klaus, and his voice rumbled against Diego's chest. "Or... something else." 

"There's more than seven of us," Diego said, right in Klaus's ear. It was weird, to be pressed close together like this. He didn't have a lot of experience dancing with someone his height, and it took a little getting used to. There was also the fact that he was beginning to get a boner, and he wasn't sure what to do with that. 

How would Klaus even react to that? How did he _want_ Klaus to react to it?

"Yeah, but we're the cool ones," said Klaus. His hands moved from Diego's belt loops to Diego's ass, and Diego sighed, a huff of warm air against Klaus' neck.

The slow song was changing to a faster one, and Diego didn't want to let go, didn't want to lose this intense, newfound closeness. He pressed his nose into Klaus' neck, taking in the familiar scent of the mansion's soap, cigarettes, sweat. 

"We should blow this Popsicle stand," Klaus said, his voice quiet in Diego's ear. His breath was ticklish against Diego's ear, and it sent shivers all the way down his spine.

"Should we?" Diego's mouth was very dry, and his heart was beating very hard. Klaus could probably feel it. 

"I know a place," said Klaus, and he gave a little shimmy, pressing his thigh against Diego's dick. That had to be an accident. Except maybe it wasn't, because it was Klaus and who even knew why he did anything. 

"What place?" 

"You'll see," said Klaus, and then he was grabbing Diego by the hand and pulling him off, through the crowds. 

_Not exactly where I saw this going_ , Diego thought dazedly, _but not entirely unexpected_. 

* * *

Kissing Klaus was exactly like Diego had expected it to be, and also nothing at all. Klaus was a better kisser than he let on, and the taste of cigarettes was surprisingly muted, mixed in with the taste of pomegranate iced tea and the sour taste of his own mouth. It didn't even feel like a shock, the two of them in the dark alley, kissing like this. Like it was just a thing to be _expected_ , that they'd been working towards this for a very long time. 

It was also a shock, as if it came out of nowhere, and some part of Diego felt as if he was floundering, still trying to figure out where he was doing. 

When Klaus pulled back, Diego's back was flat against the alley wall, and his chest was heaving. "Are we cool?" Klaus asked, and his tone had a thread of anxiety running through it. 

Diego leaned forward, and he kissed Klaus again, to shut up the anxiety that was starting to boil in his own gut. It was a deep, hard kiss, with tongue and teeth, and Klaus moaned into it, clutching at Diego's shirt.

"Fuck, Diego," Klaus mumbled, and he pressed closer. He was grinding his hips now, and he was kissing along Diego's jaw, mouthing at it. Then he pulled back, making a face. "This would be hotter if you didn't have that beard," he told Diego.

"Didn't you say I look like a sexy Antonio Banderas?" Diego hissed, as Klaus' hands roamed across his chest, down to his belt buckle. 

"Excuse you, you don't need to add "sexy" when you say Antonio Banderas," said Klaus. "It's a given. Like Wet water, or... purple haze." His fingers curled around Diego's cock, and he gave it a squeeze. 

"You're not making any sense," said Diego. His own hands went to Klaus' pants, which didn't have a belt. He undid the button instead, and it all felt entirely too real, as he pulled the zip down, pressed his hand into Klaus' underwear. He was met with hot, warm flesh, and he hissed. "You're not wearing any underwear!"

"Nope," Klaus agreed. "Makes life more complicated." 

"How do you not have zipper prints on your dick?" Diego pushed Klaus's pants down, and Klaus's dick sprang up, pressing against his belly. 

"Maybe I do," said Klaus. "Maybe you just need a... better look." He was smiling in a way that was probably supposed to be crafty. 

“You could just ask for a blowjob,” said Diego, but he was already getting on his knees. “Like a normal person.” 

“That’s not sexy,” Klaus whined, and Diego would have made a snarky response, but Klaus’ hand was on the back of his head, and Klaus was guiding the head of his cock to Diego’s mouth. 

Diego opened it, and he used one hand to push Klaus’ foreskin back, wrapping his lips around the head. He swirled his tongue over the tip of Klaus’ cock, and Klaus shuddered, his whole body going stiff. 

“You are… surprisingly good at that,” Klaus mumbled, as Diego took more into his mouth, bobbing his head. “Are you like a secret fellatio wizard?”

Diego, not wanting to let go of Klaus’ cock to tell him to shut up, decided to shut him up another way. He swallowed it down to the root (oh, that was a _lot_ , he hadn’t done that in a while) and let his tongue flicker along the underside> He gently prodded at Klaus’ foreskin, and then he pulled back, taking a deep breath. 

Klaus was leaning against the wall, his forehead cushioned against his arm. He was panting, and his hips were jerking, just a little, smearing more pre-come and spit across Diego’s face. He looked up, and saw Klaus’ hair hanging down like a curtain. Klaus blinked at him blearlily, and gave a slightly unfocused grin. 

Diego kept eye contact, and then he was back down, sucking again. He was drooling down his chin, and he was bobbing his head, trying not to gag as it brushed against the back of his throat. He slurped and he sucked, losing himself in the scent of musk and salt, the taste of Klaus’ cock on his mouth, the heft as it rested on his tongue. It throbbed on his tongue, and his own cock throbbed, up against his thigh.

Klaus’ hands went to the back of Diego’s head, and he was guiding it carefully. He was beginning to get thicker, and it was getting wetter. More pre-come, more spit, and Diego’s jaw was aching. 

“You… fuck, Diego,” Klaus moaned, and his moaning sounded a little too close to his whining. Diego wouldn’t be able to hear that without remembering this, and if he got a boner every time Klaus started whining he didn’t even know what he was going to do with himself. 

It shouldn’t have been so _hot _\- being on his knees in this filthy alley, sucking his brother’s cock. He probably shouldn’t have been doing this in the first place, but… this was perfect. He was drowning in the sensation of his mouth full of cock and his knees aching, chin soaked with drool and soaking into his shirt. He looked up at Klaugh, and caught Klaus’ desperate expression.__

__“Big question coming up ,” said Klaus in his breathless voice. “In or out?”_ _

__“Mmmm,” Diego said, and then he forced himself all the way onto Klaus’ cock, until his throat was spasming around the tip. He swallowed thickly, and Klaus sobbed and came._ _

__Diego swallowed it, and it was hot and wet as it went down his throat. He was pulled up and off, and then he was kissing Klaus, Klaus’ goatee ticklish against his own lips, Klaus’ tongue in his mouth._ _

__Klaus jammed his hand down Diego’s pants, and Diego grunted, humped back into the hand around his cock. He ground his hips forward, panting, humping into Klaus’ fist. He came. In what felt like five seconds, splattering across Klaus’ fist, soaking into his boxers. He sagged back against the wall, his chest heaving, and he rested his forehead against Klaus’. There was sweat dripping down his back, making his hair stick to his face._ _

__“Fuck,” Klaus said heavily. “I knew this was a good idea.”_ _

__“You might’ve been right,” Diego said, heavily. “But. Flowers still aren’t food.” He gave Klaus a peck on his snickering lips._ _


End file.
